


Dissonance

by Enigmatic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bodyswap, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmatic/pseuds/Enigmatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a strange presence in the preserve that causes anyone who enters to feel increasing paranoia, especially if they’re werewolves. This is possibly the worst time for the resident Alpha werewolf and the youngest Argent to swap bodies.</p><p>Naturally, that’s what happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> catte_noir provided the lovely prompt, but I'm afraid I deviated from it a little (a lot). I hope you still enjoy this!
> 
> Thank you so much to the fest mods for being so kind with me and my countless extensions.
> 
> [PerfidiousFate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/perfidiousfate) is a beautiful human being who's a great beta and an even better friend. I love her very much, especially because she pesters me until I feel guilty enough to start writing. She's the one who encouraged me to do this, so blame her.
> 
> Also, I’m Australian, so you’ll have to bear with my u’s and s’.

“Don’t you think this is a bit weird?”

Allison raises her eyebrow at him. They’re sitting on the tables outside, enjoying the slight chill of spring.

“Everything we’ve been through, and _this_ is weird?” she says.

Scott squirms. “Yes? I mean, everything else was confusing and traumatising, but it was all overt and in your face.”

“Buddy, I don’t disagree with you there,” Stiles says, “But do you really think things can get weirder than it had been a couple months ago? I mean, our English teacher tried to seduce Derek – which, _ew_ , gross – in an attempt to get revenge on her ex-girlfriend who tried to kill her instead of doing the normal, healthy thing like break up with her. I can keep going.” Stiles’ eyebrows dare Scott to contradict him.

“Fair point. She was a pretty bad English teacher,” Scott says. “Not that I’m glad we’re not dealing with all that anymore, but… I can’t explain it, but something feels wrong in the forest.” Scott frowns. “It’s like every time I step a foot in the preserve, this feeling creeps up on me – like that feeling you get when you enter a really good haunted house. Like someone’s squeezing your gut and there’s eyes on you the whole time. Except it gets worse the longer I stay in there.”

Stiles nods distractedly, his fingers tapping the table rapidly. “You’ve checked the bestiary, right?” he says. 

Allison bites her lip. She glances at Scott and sees him smiling slightly, growing wider when he notices her looking. Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs.

Scott’s smile peters off. “I’ve asked Lydia to check, but she says she needs something more than a creepy feeling to go on. The bestiary seems to be full of, um, hunting methods more than anything else.”

“Understandable, but useless since we don’t even know _what_ we’re hunting.” Stiles sighs.

“We should go check it out,” Allison says after some consideration.

Scott winces, hand brushing over his stomach. “I’ve already tried—”

“No,” she interrupts. “All of us. Or at least, Stiles and I should. We might pick up on something you missed. Maybe this only affects werewolves.” 

“Or just supernatural stuff in general,” Stiles adds. “There haven’t been any extreme cases of animals acting weird, so there aren’t any Alphas hiding in there again. I mean, we would know if they were, so it must be something else.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “As much as I hate to throw myself into a situation where it’s _extremely_ likely I’ll get injured, you’re right. We can’t figure anything out just by sitting here.”

She notices the pained expression on Scott’s face and says, “Scott, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’re just going to scan the place for anything out of the ordinary – a quick in and out if we can.”

Scott began shaking his head before she even finishes talking. “No, we’re going together,” Scott says firmly. “We know what happens when we split up.”

Stiles nods sharply.

Allison stays silent.

*

Allison checks her crossbow one last time and joins Scott and Stiles at the edge of the preserve. Scott’s eyebrows are furrowed and he’s glancing anxiously at the trees. Allison’s not the only one who notices and Stiles quickly throws an arm around Scott’s shoulders, talking in an attempt to distract him. Allison barely hears a word as she takes in her surroundings. She used to be fairly familiar with the forest, having run through them roughly twice weekly – but that was a long, long time ago. Before all this.

Stiles’ voice is still present in the background, but even his loud voice doesn’t mask the quiet crunch behind her and she—

Her crossbow is pointed at a startled Isaac, who’s backing away quickly while holding his hands up, his wide eyes glued the point of the bolt.

“Allison!” Scott says, but she’s already lowering her crossbow.

“Sorry about that,” she says, a little awkwardly given her, er, combat history with him. “You should really walk a bit louder though.”

There’s a pause before Stiles chimes in. “Exactly! I keep saying that but no moon-inclined friends of mine want to listen.”

Isaac slowly lowers his hands, though he’s still blinking rather rapidly at her. “Um, it’s okay,” he says in a high-pitched voice.

“Wait, why is he here?” Stiles suddenly realises, crossing his arms over his chest. “We have everyone we could possibly need: token werewolf, resident genius and the muscle.”

Isaac’s lips curl, giving Stiles a look that says, ‘ _Excuse you._ ’

Scott pats him lightly in the arm and says, “Well, you did ask earlier if anyone else was going to feel it. Ever since Derek and Cora got that apartment in town, they haven’t really had a reason to go in to the preserve.” He doesn’t say, “ _because of the ashes and ruins of the burnt home of their family_ ,” but Allison feels it’s heavily implied. “At least, that’s what I inferred from the one minute I had to talk with Cora. And I won’t ask Erica or Boyd to go in there.” Scott looks grim, and although she knows he’s referring to the Alpha pack, she can’t help but think of running and arrows and _please, Allison, stop—_

“So Isaac’s here to increase the sample size.” She blinks at Scott, his voice registering late and she thinks he’s noticed. He’s moved a few steps closer to her and he looks concerned. She can see his fingers twitch slightly and she knows that this is usually the point where he would touch her, ground her. Back when they were together at least. It had been months since they broke up, but she still craved for the comfort and calm that he gave her – the light that he _was_ , no, _is_ , to her. Sometimes she just misses _him_ and they weren’t as bad as they were during summer, but their interactions were occasionally awkward or just difficult to deal with.

“Okay, you can stop your methods of elimination and scientific experiment talk now.” Stiles sighed, shifting around. “I get it. I’m the human control grou— err, person, Allison’s here to shoot stuff _if_ they come for us, you’re the werewolf feelings control and Isaac’s our guinea pig.” The words come out a bit reluctantly and Allison gets the feeling this isn’t the first time Isaac’s been unexpectedly included in ScottandStiles’ plans. 

Scott gives him a relieved smile. “Come on, let’s go in.” He looks up at the blue sky, frowning slightly. “I want to get this over and done with before the sun sets. We don’t want to be stumbling around in the dark.”

*

They brush past the tree line and the further they walk, the more Isaac shudders and the more pinched Scott’s face gets. Their eyes dart everywhere and she’s pretty sure she’s seen Isaac sniff the air five times in the past ten minutes. Stiles rubs his stomach a bit and all Allison feels is a little jolt in her chest.

“See what I mean?” Scott says to Isaac, who responds with a choked off, “Yeah.”

“First hypothesis supported then,” Stiles says, “Werewolves experience this feeling more severely than humans do. All I feel is a little uncomfortable and Allison doesn’t look like she’s about to jump out of her skin either.”

She nods absently and examines at her surroundings. It’s hard to pick up any anomalies here, in spite of the overall uniformity of the forest. Everything’s too brown and green – greener than she was expecting for early spring. Then again, she’s not exactly an expert horticulturist nor does she know much about the effect of climate change on plant flowering periods. Unless something was large or obviously out of place, it would be hard to spot.

The forest does seem rather bright, brighter than it was outside the preserve. As time goes on, she finds herself blinking more and more. From the looks of it, she isn’t alone; though she likes to think her blinking is a little more elegant and covert than Stiles’. 

“We’ve established that ‘feelings’ are present, so can we please go now?” Isaac is looking worse for wear, constantly fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That wasn’t the only reason we’re in here,” Stiles says. “We’ve proven that the bad mojo exists, but now we need to find out what’s causing it. Kinda hard to do that since we don’t know _what_ we’re looking for other than something that makes us feel the creeps, which doesn’t really narrow anything down for us—”

He’s cut off by Scott and Isaac’s alarmed looks, their heads turning quickly to look all around them.

“I heard something—”

“I saw—”

Isaac’s face is no longer human and his hands are shaking. Scott’s not at that point yet, but he’s growling and his eyes are wide. Their fear is infecting her and she holds her crossbow up, bumping slightly into Stiles who startles so hard he almost falls over. 

“There! Pale and yellow—”

“Crunching, like bones and it’s getting louder—”

She’s looking at where they’re pointing at and she sees—

“Uh… maybe this is a good time for us to _run_.”

At Stiles’ words, they all break off into a sprint. She doesn’t know where they’re going, but _anywhere but here_ sounded good. She wants to turn around and give the thing a good shot in the leg or eye, but she doesn’t want to miss a single step. A part of her is too terrified to give it a closer look.

“It’s getting closer!” Isaac’s panicked yell almost makes her trip and her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest. They can’t run forever, even with the adrenaline, and she’s already looking for another way out but this is a _forest_ there are no exit doors or walls to hide behind just trees—

“Over there!” she yells, digging her free hand into Scott’s bicep and pulling him towards the misshapen tree on their left. It’s the only tall one that looks climbable and she jumps on the first foothold she can see, scrambling up as fast as she can. Scott’s at her heels and she looks down and Stiles doesn’t know to how climb and he’s trying and _failing_ but Isaac pulls him up to the lowest branch and all she hears is harsh breathing.

The footsteps have gotten so close that even she can hear the crush of leaves underfoot and she slaps a hand over her mouth, trying to breathe more quietly. Scott’s hand finds hers and his eyes are wide and scared and worried and—

The noise below them stops. They’re gripping each other so tightly that she can barely feel her hand and she squeezes her eyes shut because she _doesn’t want to see—_

“Aren’t you guys a little too old to be playing in trees?” 

The voice is familiar and her eyes snap open, pained by the brightness but she can’t blink because she sees _Derek Hale_ looking up at them, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrow raised.

Scott sighs.

*

“Why didn’t you tell me that something was going on in the forest?” Scott’s scowling at him, shooting accusing glares in his direction.

Derek huffs. “I _told_ you I didn’t know about it until yesterday. And I’m only checking it out today.”

He had escorted everyone out of the preserve, holding on to a Isaac’s shaking shoulder. The sinister atmosphere in the preserve affected Derek as well, but he figured he was just used to discomfort that it didn’t bother him as much as it did the teens. He had offered to send Isaac back to his foster family when Scott volunteered to come with him, saying that Stiles could bring Allison home. Derek knew this confrontation was coming, but better sooner than later. Maybe he’d get a chance to go back the preserve before Cora started asking questions.

Scott still looks suspicious of him, frowning at his answer. “After the Alpha pack, we agreed to tell each other if we noticed anything out of place around here. You promised, Derek.”

“I know we did.” Derek starts to grow more exasperated. He thinks Scott should trust him by now, or at the very least, believe he’s telling the truth. “And I’m telling you, that’s all I know. I thought I caught the hint of something before… but then all I heard was running, _your_ running, and I lost it. I have to go back and see—”

“No,” Scott interrupts. “No one’s going anywhere alone, or not without at least two people with them.”

Derek admits that Scott has a point. Derek was alone and his feral sister and pack member almost tore him to shreds. Erica and Boyd weren’t alone and the Alpha pack still caught them. Being alone or in pairs clearly doesn’t work in Beacon Hills.

Derek simply stares back at Scott, not wanting to lie to him because of course Derek is going back tonight. He was so close earlier; there’s a chance the thing was still in the preserve. If he waits until tomorrow or until two persons could join him, the thing might disappear without a trace.

“Derek.” Scott’s voice is stern. “Don’t go back in there, or if you do, bring Cora or Erica or Boyd. Or a human. We know that thing affects werewolves more than humans and it would be good if not everyone went batshit in that place.”

“Didn’t seem to help you guys earlier,” Derek comments.

Scott nods reluctantly and says, “But it never hurts to have a bit of diversity in the group. We don’t know what we’re up against and I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

He sighs and nods. Scott has good intentions – always had, always will – and Derek can’t deny him this.

“Okay.”

*

It is just after sundown, but the preserve still seems unnaturally bright.

Allison rubs her eyes before stopping. It used to be a bad habit of hers when she was young and her optometrist always said that it would ruin her eyes if she kept doing it. Sighing, she resigning herself to get her eyes checked sometime soon. There’s a chance the pain is coming from whatever’s causing them so much grief in the preserve, but everyone else seemed to be getting paranoid, not eye aches.

She sucks in a deep breath and keeps moving. The faster she finds something, the faster she can get out of here. Amidst everyone’s panic earlier, she swears she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. She can’t describe it in colour, shape or size – all she can do is admit that she saw something. She would’ve thought she was just imagining it if she didn’t know better. It’s always little glimpses like those that are designed to look like they mean nothing when in truth, they’re clues, if not the key to everything. All Allison has to do is find it again.

She had wanted to go the next day, preferably with Scott and Stiles, but the hint of something more haunted her and she just couldn’t let it go. It didn’t take long to convince her dad that she was going to sleepover at Lydia’s. Though their relationship had gotten better after the Gerard incident, they still weren’t as close as they used to be. The drive over is filled with anxiety. She knows Scott wouldn’t approve, which is exactly why she’s out here at night, alone. She can’t let it go and won’t, not if it can help them figure out what’s happening. She has a feeling that paranoia is just the first step of a much larger plan and she doesn’t want to wait and find out what it.

She hears rustling to her right and turns, catching sight of a dark blur moving. She squints to make sure it’s not just a trick of the moonlight, but the blur turns slightly and she sees white and she’s running.

The figure is darting between the trees and somehow, the forest seems light and dark at the same it. It disorients her and the figure is difficult to keep track of, flickering in and out of her sight. But at one point, she sees the figure running in a straight line to a small niche at the bottom of a hill and she stops, pointing her crossbow in that direction.

She only manages to get one loose before she’s tackled to the ground.

She grapples with her attacker for a few moments before she can get a solid punch to their face and a knee to their gut. The person feels large and are they made of steel or something? Her hand and knee are going to be so bruised after this.

Allison manages to get her legs in the gap between her and her attacker and she puts all her strength into kicking the person square in the chest.

They stumble back, air forced out of their chest. Allison quickly gets up and is about to strike them again when she sees their face and freezes.

“ _Derek?!_ ”

*

Derek gulps in a big breath and looks up, only to stare down a crossbow pointed straight at his neck. He looks up further and sees the frowning face of Chris Argent’s daughter.

“What are you doing here?” she asks coldly.

Derek stiffens and stands up straight, staring her down.

“Me? What are _you_ doing here?”

“I was looking for the person who’s hopefully behind all this. Before _you_ tackled me down.” He can see her gritting her teeth.

“ _So was I_ , so you can put that little weapon of yours away,” he says, taking a chance and swiping the tip of the crossbow away from his neck. He’s met with little resistance and internally sighs in relief. He’s been stabbed, shot and impaled enough to last several lifetimes. “I was almost caught up to them when I saw you. I thought you were them.”

She stares at him intently for a few moments before saying, “Scott said not to go out alone, or at night.”

 _Yeah, well, Scott doesn’t have a pack that has gone through enough shit._ He knows Erica still gets nightmares and Cora goes very quiet whenever the preserve – and by extension their old house near the preserve – is mentioned. _I won’t ask them to come out here._

“I don’t see you listening to him either,” he points out. He can see her jaw tighten right before she nods. He guesses she doesn’t want him to know why she’s out here either. Fair enough. He doesn’t care what her intentions are, as long as he finds the person responsible and stops them, by any means necessary. He misses running through the preserve without feeling like he’s being followed.

“I saw them going that way—” is all he hears before he blacks out.

*

Allison wakes up suddenly. Her head is pounding, all her muscles are sore and her mouth feels like a raccoon died in it. She moves her arms to try to push herself off her bed, but she freezes at the sound of leaves rustling. That… does not sound like her bed. Her eyes snap open and she’s only slightly blinded by the light tint of the sky before sunrise. She’s _definitely_ not in her bed if the leaves and trees were anything to go by.

The feeling of uneasiness and emptiness overwhelms her and her hands are curling into fists and she can’t breathe fast enough—

Her breathing stops completely when she sees a prone figure in front of her.

One that looks terribly like _her_.

“Oh my—” she chokes off when she hear her voice, _not her voice_. Looking down, she sees not her hands. One of not her hands rises and touches her face, _not her face_ because it’s soft with hair and oh my—

The sound was enough to jolt her body awake, eyes blinking blearily at her. Her body stiffens when it spots her and a gruff, “What the—” comes out before _her_ eyes widen.

“What the hell is happening?” her voice, face, body demands and it seems to get even more agitated at the sound. “What are you? Why is my—”

“Yours?” she interrupts, glancing down as not her body. It was wide and hard and— “Derek?”

“Allison?” her body replies.

“What are you doing in _my body?_ ” 

“Your body? What are you doing in mine?” he demands before looking between her body and his repeatedly. “Oh, you’re kidding me.”

“We switched bodies?” She can feel her (his) voice getting increasingly hysterical. She stops and takes in a deep breath. _Relax._ She needs to think clearly and fix this _now_ because she can’t not be in her own body, for heaven’s sake. “We need to calm down and think this through.”

Her body is still, but she can see that Derek is fighting panic as well. He’s just quieter and internalised it more than she did.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asks, slowly moving into a more comfortable position. She can already feel the ache in her muscles and head abiding, though her stomach still churns and she can smell too much and too little all together, her eyes blinking rapidly as she takes in too much detail. _This must be what werewolf senses feel like._

“We were looking for the person behind this,” he starts slowly. “And you pointed at this gap, hole, thing at the bottom of the hill… and nothing.”

“Same here,” she says, reaching up to push her hair back, only to find air. The hand travels up further and grasps hair that is much, much shorter than hers ever was. She feels herself grimace as the hand comes away a little sticky. “Hair gel? Really?”

“I think there are more important things at stake right now,” he stiffly reminds her. He looks around and says, “We’re clearly not where we were last time and it looks like we’ve been passed out for sometime. Whoever did this is long gone, not that I can tell.” He scrunches her nose, her face becoming more pinched. _Does I really look like that when I’m annoyed?_ She shakes her head.

“We need to figure out how to deal with this,” she says. “Obviously you have to act like me and vice versa until we get this fixed, which is…” She trails off, lost for words. She knows nothing about him and him less about her. How are they supposed to pull this off? And with everything going on, this is the _worst_ time for this to happen – which is probably what the person behind this wants. 

“Scott can’t know we’re—” He stops abruptly. After a beat of silence, he gestures at her (his) body. She nods absently. That makes sense. Not only does she want to deal with it with herself for now, but she also doesn’t want to be proven wrong.

But they were so close.

A horrifying thought comes upon her.

“My dad can’t know about this!” she almost shrieks, which sounds more than a little odd in Derek Hale’s voice. ( _Derek Hale’s voice. What’s happening?!_ )

Now Derek looks panicked and shit, how is she going to fly this past her dad?

“Fuck.”

*

It takes them two hours to find themselves out of the forest, especially since Derek can’t _use his senses anymore_. He’s also shorter and skinnier and it takes him half an hour to stop taking overly large steps or jerk when walking. He can’t feel his pack and he feels fragile and _weak_.

It’s quiet between them for the first hour. Then she starts talking about herself and her relationships with friends and family. “I don’t want to,” she snaps, “But I have to if we have a chance of pulling this off. At least for a couple days. I want to fix this before then, hopefully before Lydia finds out.”

He didn’t know her relationship with her father was strained and their interactions awkward despite their attempt to reconcile. He didn’t know her and Scott were still on the fix. He didn’t know her relationship with Lydia had gotten so close that he had to avoid her if he wanted to have any chance of maintaining this façade. He didn’t know she didn’t have many friends outside of Lydia, Scott and Stiles. 

He doesn’t know many things and there’s a very slim chance that he can properly pass as Allison Argent.

His advice is to avoid his pack. She disagrees, saying that she couldn’t possibly maintain that over days. _Because this might take us longer to fix._ Eventually, he reluctantly admits that she has a point. His foremost worry is the bond he’s built with his pack. After the Alpha pack incident, things had changed. He was never meant to be an alpha and that much was obvious throughout his first few months. His mother was a strict but kind alpha and Laura— she did the best she could in her grief. He promised a better life for them and all they got in return were broken bodies and minds. It was _his_ fault and he blamed them for running when he never gave them a reason to stay.

He tells her about Cora, how they’re sometimes still aggressive together and they tiptoe around like strangers who knew each other a long, long time ago – but they’re trying. Erica and Boyd drop by often, usually to spend time with Cora, but he takes the opportunity to talk to them. Ask them about their lives. He doesn’t tell her about how long it took for them to stop being suspicious of him, to be comfortable enough to talk to him. He doesn’t tell her that he stopped training them mindlessly in preparation for an unseen threat. He stops and listens and he wants to do better, _be_ better, and having Cora – and Scott – there helps.

He tells her he doesn’t interact with many people to begin with, so she has little to worry about.

This is a bad situation, but he’s used to dealing with bad situations.

*

She tells him that there’s spare clothes in the backseat that he has to change into before going to school. Her current attire is covered in dirt and leaf litter. She goes through her school bag and points out what each notebook is for, points out her schedule and reminds him to take notes. She’s doing well in school and she wants to maintain it. Derek doesn’t really care about school and just wants to catch whoever’s behind this so he can move on. But she has his body and he has no clue to where to start looking, so he decides to go along with it until something comes up.

She leaves in his car and he enters hers.

The seat is different and everything feels wrong. He goes to a gas station and quickly changes in the bathroom. He makes sure to keep his eyes to the ceiling the whole time.

By the time he arrives at Beacon Hills High, a decent number of people are already milling about. He tries to walk as quickly as he can to the school and thankfully, no one talks to him. When he’s inside though, he feels someone grabbing his shoulder and he stiffens.

When he turns around though, all he’s met with is Scott’s face. “Hey Allison, I called you a few times. Didn’t you hear?” His voice is laced with concern.

“No,” Derek responds jerkily. “I didn’t. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” he says with an easy smile. He starts to walk and Derek joins a few seconds later. “So how are you after yesterday? Sorry I couldn’t stay and go back with you. I had to talk to Derek about something.”

Derek doesn’t look at him and says, “I’m fine.”

Scott stops and his hand brushes Derek’s forearm. “Allison, are you sure you’re all right?”

Derek forces himself to smile. Judging from Scott’s face, it comes out shaky at best. “I really am fine. Just a bit shaken up.”

Scott doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. “Well, English doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes, so we can drop by your locker and go.”

Derek agrees in relief and follows him, only to realise at the locker itself that she had neglected to tell him her locker combination.

He stares at the lock before saying, “Actually, I’m good. Let’s just get to class.”

*

Allison had driven around aimlessly for the first hour, probably wasting gas and polluting the environment with each passing second, but she was too preoccupied to care. She had wanted to get away from Derek ( _her_ body) and the preserve as fast as possible, and as soon as she was sure she couldn’t hear him, she twisted onto a dirt path and kept going for a while. Eventually, she stops and gets out of the car.

Everything is unfamiliar. The car, the body, even her surroundings. The tree trunks were too vivid, leaves too lurid. The sound of cars passing on the main road echoes like she’s right next to a jet engine and the smell of dirt, gas and a thousand unidentifiable scents pierces her nose. 

The body feels heavy and she can’t even hold her arms properly to her sides thanks to the biceps. She pokes at the body’s stomach and swears her finger bruises just from that touch. _Way to go overboard, Derek. I don’t think ‘abs of steel’ was supposed to be taken literally._ She raises and lowers her arm and despairs because she doesn’t know how she’s going to use her bow like this.

She grabs a thick branch off the ground and squeezes it, watching as it breaks easily under her fingers. She was never the type for brute strength. Speed and stealth were her forte and in this body, they’re null.

There’s a strange feeling underneath her ribs and she can’t describe it exactly, but she thinks it has something to do with being a werewolf. She hasn’t wolfed out so far and she hopes it’ll keep until all this is over. She doesn’t know how to ‘activate’ her werewolf powers, and she’d honestly rather put that off infinitely if she could. The senses are enough of a pain in the ass.

After hours of testing the extent and limits of this body, she gets back into car and starts rifling through the dashboard. She feels a little guilty, but reasons that she needed to know him to play him and what better way to start if not looking through his dashboard? Plus, he’s probably doing the same to her car as well. She finds the car manual and some other papers, but more interestingly, his wallet. She rifles through it and finds several IDs, credit cards and a lot of cash. Nothing significant.

Allison leans back in the seat and frowns in disappointment. _Maybe this meant he wasn’t a very sentimental guy?_

She puts everything back and starts the car, resolving to think on it later.

*

By lunchtime, he remembers why he didn’t go back to high school after— After.

Lydia was in the English class and he had taken the first seat that was nowhere near hers. Scott looked confused, but had obliged sitting right next to him. He whispered comments and jokes at Derek behind the teacher’s back and… it’s different. Scott’s never talked to him so casually before. There was always an underlying hint of tension or pressure to save someone, fix something, defend people. Derek doubts she will appreciate the lack of notes he’s taken in that hour. As soon as the bell rang, Derek was out of the door, mindful to avoid the redhead as much as he could. 

He walks into the cafeteria and he’s underwhelmed by everything. Where once he could hear each conversation in painstaking detail, now even the loud voices are blur. And the smells that used to force him to eat outside are barely noticeable in comparison.

He sees Scott waving at him, Stiles at his side. He hesitates, but joins them in the end.

“Hey Allison, I got you some chocolate,” Scott says, passing him the bar. “It’s your favourite, and I thought it might make you feel a bit better today.”

“Um,” Derek says. He doesn’t really eat chocolate, but Scott’s face is so earnest that he can’t resist. His hand slowly reaches out to grab it. “Thanks.”

Scott just smiles wider and Derek can’t help but give him a small smile in return.

He’s about to tear open the wrapper when a sharp voice cuts through the lunchtime din. 

“Allison, there you are.” 

Derek debates running for it, but he knows it’s too late already.

“Hi, Lydia,” he says, raising the corners of his lips into a smile. His eyes flick down. “I like your dress today.” _Maybe that will distract her?_

“Why, thank you,” she half-smiles, patting her hair down. “But you could’ve told me that before school. Or in English. Do you have something to say, Allison?” Her voice is saccharine-sweet.

“Of course not,” he says, staring back at her just as intensely, keeping the smile on his face.

Her smile dies and her eyes narrow.

“You’re not Allison,” she says with a steely edge. 

Derek freezes.

“Wait, what?” Stiles exclaims.

“What?” Scott looks confused for a second, his eyes darting between them. He exchanges a long look with Lydia. “What do you mean, Lydia?”

“She’s not Allison.” Derek wouldn’t admit it out loud, but her stare is extremely unnerving for someone so... small. “I don’t know who or _what_ you are, but you are not my Allison.”

He feels a hand clutch his (her) arm gently, but firmly. He sees Scott trying to scrutinise him, as if staring at his (her) face reveal all his secrets.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, resisting the urge to grit his teeth.

She just levels a cool look at him, holding her hand up and examining her nails. “Do you honestly think I don’t know what my best friend’s mannerisms are? That I can’t tell when her eyes are all wrong? Allison never avoids me. She keeps secrets and she gets even, but she never avoids me.” She straightens and glares at him. “Who are you and where is Allison?”

Derek looks at all of them, contemplating the situation. Lydia’s sharper than he thought, and him, a worse actor than he believed. That doesn’t really surprise him. Scott looks hurt and a bit angry, and— he actually doesn’t care what Stiles thinks. Trying to lie to them again would probably be more trouble than it’s worth, especially when Lydia has got him pinned. He sighs.

“Fine,” he says, shaking Scott’s hand off him and ignoring the imprint of warmth that’s left behind. “I’m Derek and Allison’s probably at my apartment right now.”

Seeing Stiles choke on his own saliva, however, is worth it.

*

She drives to the address that he gave her, looking at the bright red bricks of the apartment complex. After his last two residences, she was expecting something more… dark and gloomy.

The apartment itself is rather bare; walls clean except for one mirror. The furniture looks like each piece was bought from a different thrift shop in the state, the couch and wall-mounted TV being the only things that looked remotely new.

Allison goes to the sink to get a drink of water when she sees something pinned to the fridge. She moves closer and it’s Cora’s schedule at the Beacon Hills community college. Skimming down the today’s list, she notes that Cora should be back home soon. Allison takes in a deep breath and hopes that her pretending-to-be-Derek-Hale skills aren’t too horrible. He didn’t really give her much to work with, but as long as she tries to communicate with Cora and doesn’t get into excessively heated fights with her, she should be fine. _Right?_

When she takes a closer look at the apartment, she notices that it’s not as empty as she thought it was. At least, not as empty on a personal level. The coffee table is littered with white rings, one glass still there with condensation pooling at its feet. Aside from Cora’s schedule on the fridge, she also finds textbooks and stationery littered around the apartment. The number of pens and notebooks almost rivals the number of hair ties she finds. She also spots a tub of hair gel under the mirror near the door. 

Not wanting to disturb anything in fear of appearing uncharacteristic, she peruses the rather large bookcase in what she assumes is Derek’s room and picks a name familiar to her.

She’s only ten pages in when the front door slams open, Cora plowing through and throwing her bag on the floor. She ruffles Allison’s ( _Derek’s_ ) hair quickly and goes to the kitchen for a drink.

“Hey,” Allison says, uncomfortable in the silence.

Cora raises her eyebrow at her and drawls, “Hey…”

Allison nods awkwardly at her and returns to her book, feeling like she’s already failing – and barely a minute in.

She’s trying to concentrate on the words when Cora says, “Aren’t you going to ask me how my day went?”

Allison snaps her head in her direction and blinks with wide eyes. “You know,” Cora continues, “that daily inquiry into the Hale life of glamour in the sports science department of BHCC.”

“Yeah…” Allison tries to stall, but Cora’s face gets more incredulous and she knows that was a bad move. “How was your day?”

“Good, good,” Cora says, her voice sounding forcibly laid-back. _Shit._ “Remember that asshole physiology professor I have?”

Allison made a vague noise of agreement.

Cora’s eyes narrow and Allison sees her stalk closer in her peripherals. _Double shit._

Before Cora can do anything, Allison jolts upright, the door bursts open and in walks—

_Lydia?_

“All right, the jig is up!” She hears Stiles and _really, Stiles?_

“That,” Lydia says, pointing straight at Allison, “is not your idiot brother.”

Already on the edge, Cora bares her teeth and flashes her claws. “Where—”

“Derek,” Lydia continues, ignoring her, “is right there.” She jerks her thumb to her right and Allison sees her body, face twisted in a scowl and arms crossed over her chest. She barely recognises her own body, the posture all unfamiliar to her. 

She hears a chorus of, “No way,” “What?” and raucous laughter. She then notices that Lydia and Stiles aren’t alone, Erica, Boyd and Isaac crowded at the door. Scott is there too and he’s frowning slightly at her.

“Did you guys swap bodies?” Erica asks between laughs, her tone a little too gleeful for Allison’s tastes. “This is like _It’s a Boy Girl Thing_! Did you guys fight in front of a statue by any chance?”

Derek shoots her a look and she quiets, though she’s still smirking viciously.

“What. Happened.” Cora enunciates slowly, her claws still out.

“Cora,” Derek says firmly, and for the first time since they woke up, Allison sees her own face soften.

Lydia makes a disgruntled noise and says, “Calm down, trigger happy. These two decided to go traversing the ill-omened preserve and got their asses switched. Somehow they thought they could fix it alone.” She scoffs. 

Despite her bitter tone, Allison could see the corners of Lydia’s eyes wrinkling and her shoulders were sagging a little rather than the straight posture she assumes when she’s tearing someone down.

“Lydia,” Allison says, “I’m sorry.”

Lydia had dealt with enough people being in the wrong bodies, the wrong heads. Allison shouldn’t have added to that.

Lydia sniffs. “You better be sorry,” she responds curtly. “I had to deal with _this_ ,” she jerks her head at Derek, “for six hours.”

That was a _you can make it up to me later_ from her. Allison smiles gratefully.

Stiles curses. “I didn’t even know his face had the muscles to do that,” he says, whistling.

“I might be in a human body,” Derek snaps, “but I can still rip out your throat with my teeth. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“Kinky,” Stiles responds, “but I’m not into mutilation or bloodplay. You should try Grindr. I hear it has an excellent reputation for—”

“Stiles,” Scott interjects loudly, patting Stiles’ chest a couple times. “Why don’t we let some of us share their past twenty four hours and then we can figure out what to do next?”

He raises his eyebrows at both of them and Stiles huffs, backing down from their glaring contest.

“Fine. But only because you know all my sweet spots.”

*

They decide that this news should stay between nine of them, but really, it just emphasised the need to keep Chris Argent oblivious. Not that that clarification was needed; Derek highly doubts any of them wants to tell Argent his precious daughter’s body wasn’t her own anymore.

They decide that they should set up a patrol around and inside the preserve. “We might still catch them,” Scott says, but Derek thinks he’s being too optimistic. They’d already crossed the person twice in one day. Derek highly doubts they’ll make that mistake a third time.

Cora takes the seat next to Derek.

“From what Lydia tells me, you are a shit actor,” Cora says candidly. She glances over at his body. “Actually, both of you are. I don’t know how you thought you were going to pull this off.”

Derek grunts at her.

She scoffs. “All I had to do was mention my physiology professor and the cover was blown.”

Derek clenches his fists and bares his teeth. “Did he do anything? Did he touch you again—”

His tirade is cut off when Cora bursts out laughing, her delight ringing through the apartment.

*

Two days pass and nothing happens.

Derek goes to school and starts paying attention in class, choosing to listen to the monotonous drone instead of staring out the window, itching to get out of this skin. He wants to leave, to find the person who did this and force them to fix this with his claws. Except he doesn’t have claws anymore – but he could get creative.

Of course, Scott, Lydia and Stiles don’t make it easy for him. Between the three of them, there was always at least one of them in class with him. He couldn’t even take a piss without one of them lingering outside the door. Lunch was possibly worse. They circle him as soon as class ends and herd him into the cafeteria. They practically glue themselves to him throughout the hour, conversing around and over his sullen chewing as they attempt to appear normal.

In class, Scott sits next to him and often shoots him furtive glances, as if he’s having trouble reconciling the body of his beloved with the mind of a person he— He doesn’t actually know what Scott feels about him anymore. It was pretty obvious a while ago, but then the Alpha pack happened and everything’s nebulous now. Derek doesn’t really like to think about it. Sometimes, Scott tentatively begins to talk to him for some bizarre reason and Derek reluctantly responds, though most of the time it’s stilted or awkward or forced.

Stiles on the other hand loves to glower at him, thinking that if he stares at him hard enough, Derek might vapourise beneath his gaze. Once, Derek catches his eye in the middle of his attempts and strategically rests a specific finger on his cheek. He sees Stiles clench his fist and he smirks, knowing Stiles can’t do anything to Derek while he’s still in Allison’s body. Not that it stops him from trying _multiple times_ each class.

Lydia is probably his favourite, if he had to choose. She pointedly ignores him, her cold silence a stark relief from Scott’s failed attempts at talking to him and Stiles’ glares.

He hits his breaking point on the third day, shoving Scott away from him when they tried to corner him at the end of school. “Can you stop following me around for one second?” he almost yells, his body coiled to attack.

Stiles catches Scott and glares furiously at Derek. “Should’ve thought of that before you went gallivanting through the preserve at night,” he snaps, “especially when we _told_ you not to.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Derek snarls. “Weren’t you the one who got his best friend bitten when you felt like ‘gallivanting’ around for a dead body?”

Stiles’ face becomes thunderous and Derek smirks viciously. He takes a couple steps forwards and looks like he’s about strangle Derek when a hand grips his shoulder.

“Stiles,” Scott says, “Let it go. I’m okay. _We’re_ okay.”

Stiles’ jaw tics, but Derek can see him deflate slightly. He nods jerkily, reaching up to squeeze Scott’s hand before taking it off and walking away. 

Scott gives Derek an inscrutable look before following. He feels his stomach clench and his throat get tighter in response, but pushes it away and heads the opposite way.

They give him more space after that, but he always feels their eyes on him.

*

Allison spends a lot of her time at the Hales’ apartment. She doesn’t have much of a choice really. Her friends are in school, and when they’re not, it’s not like they can stay and hang out with her forever. They have their own homes to go to.

She also doesn’t want to leave the apartment in fear of running into her father in town. Allison doesn’t know if he’ll be able to figure things out just by looking at Derek’s body, but she doesn’t want to find out.

She tries to read books, but she can’t concentrate when _she’s in someone else’s body._ She tries to clean the apartment, but stops when Cora gets home and glares at her, looking two seconds away from committing an act of violence on her brother’s body. She even tries yoga, something she did when she wanted to calm herself, but she stops five minutes in, too uneasy with executing the motions in _Derek’s_ body.

Just as Derek said, Erica and Boyd visit often and only when Cora’s there. The first time she opens the door to them, Erica’s smiling deviously, looking ready to make a comment before remembering who was _actually_ in front of her. She falters, but then smoothly walks around Allison into the apartment, Boyd trailing behind her. 

Allison bites her lips as a wave of guilt washes over her. The last time she got a proper look at them, they were—

She was—

Allison quickly goes to Derek’s room and grabs her laptop and charger. Derek had stared at her derisively when she asked him to get it for her, but she pointed out that she lived in his home now. “Who knows what I might _accidentally_ do…” she had said with an innocent smile. Derek had flinched, whether from her words or the expressions she was pulling on _his_ face, and finally relented, slamming the laptop hard on the dinner table a day later. 

Allison leaves the apartment and heads to the first café she finds. Thankfully, it has free wi-fi.

She buys a ridiculously sweet caffeinated drink. It’s a little petty, but it’s the only way she knows to mess with Derek while still in his body. She turns on her laptop and boots up an Internet window, starting her research into body swaps.

What she finds is… disappointing.

There are just pages and pages of shows, movies and books that contain body swap plotlines. Nothing actually concrete. Many of them talk about how ‘walking in another’s shoes’ would reverse the swap, but Allison highly doubts fictional media is a credible source of information. Also, she doesn’t think that’s exactly what her attacker was thinking when they swapped her body with _Derek Hale_ of all people. There are some other ‘solutions,’ but she finds them either non-applicable or ridiculous so she discounts them entirely.

She tries again with different key words this time but the results are just as useless as her previous search, only this time, it’s full of people asking online for ‘real’ body swap spells. The responses vary from kind to insulting, but they all say the same thing: body swaps don’t exist. She scoffs at that. _If only._

After a couple hours and images she would rather bleach from her mind, she shuts her laptop down with a sigh. Clearly the Internet is not the way to go for this.

Later, when Scott is at the apartment, she asks him to check with Deaton about their _situation_.

“Already on it,” Scott replies with an adorable grin. Allison’s chest feels tight as she smiles back. Months have passed and she’s still not completely over him (she doesn’t think she ever will be), but that’s okay. Scott is Scott, and she’s well aware of his effect on her, regardless of their relationship status. “Deaton already knew about the preserve, but he was a bit, uh, surprised about your… condition. He’ll tell us when he finds something.” 

Lydia walks into the apartment then, several textbooks in arm. She raises her eyebrow at Allison. “Just because you’re mentally displaced right now doesn’t mean you can slack off.”

Allison suppresses a grin and waves at Scott, following her into Derek’s room.

*

Things in the preserve start getting worse.

Werewolves can’t linger inside the preserve for more than an hour before losing it. They learned this the hard way when Boyd almost slashes Derek in the face during one of their patrols. Thankfully, only his arm was injured. Scott looks it over and says they’re superficial, so he doesn’t need any stitches. That doesn’t stop Scott from admonishing him as he bandages the cut, he assumes for harming his precious ex’s body. 

(Derek ignores the odd sensation that goes through him when Scott’s warm hands are on his skin.)

“The base level intensity of the curse seems to be increasing rapidly – possibly exponentially, though I can’t be sure until I have more data,” Lydia had said. “Since we don’t know when exactly this started, we’re working from the middle and this might get worse more quickly than we’re expecting.”

The human tolerance of the curse was dropping as well, though they don’t know exactly how long they can last. “I would rather not know,” Scott had said with a grim face. 

They’ve determined that the boundary of the curse roughly corresponds to the boundaries of the preserve itself. Stiles manages to convince the Sheriff to issue a warning about ‘increased aggressive animal activity’ in the preserve. Derek admits having legal help on their side helps a lot, especially since they can’t keep a constant watch of the borders.

Deaton’s the only one with external sources of information and they can’t do _anything_ until he finds something. It’s just too dangerous to go in the preserve anymore. Derek doesn’t trust Deaton, but they’re honestly at a dead end. He would’ve gone in anyway, but the last time he did that, he ended up in an Argent’s body. Derek’s not a complete idiot.

(But he hates the wait. Hates knowing something, someone is out there and he can’t do anything to stop them. It feels too much like the Alpha pack and Erica and Boyd.)

They all know it’s no coincidence that the curse is affecting werewolves worst. Scott’s worried the curse will expand beyond the preserve and tells them to keep their phones with them at all times. “If you need to, keep it on silent. But _only_ if you need to. Keep your phones charged and don’t turn them off for anything,” Scott says when they’re all gathered at Derek’s apartment.

Scott exchanges a significant look with Stiles, who simply tilts his head down, his lips pressed in a straight line.

*

Derek hates sleeping in the Argent’s penthouse – hates being so close to the family that cost him so much.

He starts waking up early, hours before sunrise. He eats whatever he sees in the kitchen first and leaves straight away, avoiding Chris as much as he can. He wants to keep their _situation_ a secret, of course – but he just can’t stand him to begin with, so why bother being in his presence. He also comes back late, giving Chris a courtesy wave before darting into Allison’s room, claiming exhaustion.

Chris isn’t exactly around when Derek is at home. He’s always locked up in his office, citing something about a backlog of admin duties needed to be completed for the business. Derek had nodded slowly, trying not to look too eager to leave.

He gets caught one morning, croissant half in his mouth. Chris is standing at the doorway, arms crossed. “You’re not home much anymore,” he states simply.

Derek chews slowly and swallows. “I’m studying,” he lies. “There’s not much time left to get my average up and I want to do the best I can.”

It sounds like bullshit to him, but Chris seems to accept it well enough. “Why can’t you study at home?”

“I can’t concentrate at home,” he says. “Too many distractions.” _Too many unfamiliar things. Not my home, not mine._

“The café in town is better for studying. And Lydia likes to study in the mornings too,” he adds as an afterthought.

Chris nods reluctantly and lets him pass. “Just come home before dinner,” he says, and Derek waves half-heartedly over his shoulder before he closes the front door behind him, muscles relaxing for the first time in five minutes.

*

Allison has made many mistakes in her life, but none as = horrible as what she did under Gerard’s influence. She knows there was little she could do to stop it; Gerard was a manipulative bastard and she wasn’t exactly in a good state of mind with half her family dying and the secrets and lies. She knows that.

It doesn’t stop her from thinking about what she did. About what ifs. It doesn’t negate the consequences of her actions.

With this in mind, she opens the door and tells Erica and Boyd, “I want to talk to you.”

They were getting used to her presence by now – or at least, her presence in Derek’s body. But as soon as she says that, Erica’s eyes narrow and Boyd frowns severely. “Just for one minute, I swear,” she says. “And Cora will be back with pizza in five.”

“Fine,” Erica says curtly, walking into the living room and crossing her arms over her chest. Boyd stands next to her, both their bodies wound tightly like a spring, ready to burst as soon as the pressure weakens.

“I want to say I’m sorry,” she blurts— not intending to say that. At least not at first. She thought she could build up to it, but it’s too late now and she just has to barrel onwards. She sucks in a deep breath. “I was in a bad place, but that doesn’t excuse what I did. What I did to you… you didn’t deserve it and I’m just—” She stutters. Gulps. “So sorry.”

She doesn’t know what she sounds like; doesn’t know if they’ll care. Doesn’t know if she’ll ever make up for it.

They gaze back at her impassively, though Erica looks like she’s grinding her teeth.

“Cora would’ve been alone without us,” Boyd finally says after a long, uncomfortable pause.

“Tell her we’re sorry we had to leave,” Erica says, “and that we’ll pay her back for the pizza.”

They then leave without another word.

They don’t forgive her, but it’s okay.

She doesn’t expect them to.

*

He doesn’t know what’s worse, Scott’s proximity or Stiles’ persistence.

In spite of how thing went last time, Scott seems to be even _more_ keen on engaging with Derek. And Derek’s just… really, really confused.

Scott begins to include him in conversations during lunch, much to Stiles and Lydia’s annoyance. They are often inane talks about the weather or school or lacrosse, but Scott will look to him for a response, his eyes imploring and Derek huffs out a quick yes/no, even if the answer doesn’t quite fit. But Scott smiles at him, satisfied and Derek… finds himself talking more, if only to mock lacrosse.

Basketball is obviously superior.

Stiles doesn’t agree with his friend’s newfound charitable nature towards Derek and starts carrying out strategic and covert tricks to sabotage him. First Derek finds that one of his pens exploded when he reaches into his bag, staining both his hands and the bag. It takes him twenty minutes to wash it off, and even then there is still residue clinging on to his skin. He doesn’t even know it’s intentional until he sees Stiles smirk when Derek leaves an inky imprint on the door handle. After that it’s a burst of glitter from his locker that almost blinds him. And they keep on coming.

They’re harmless but they’re fucking annoying and a bitch to clean.

He shoves Stiles up against the lockers. “Stop with the pranks,” he growls, curling his fingers and digging them into Stiles’ chest.

“Ouch, asshole,” Stiles says angrily, trying to push his hand off but not succeeding. Derek doesn’t need to be a werewolf to threaten someone. “Still not over the shoving I see. I could report you for harassment.”

“Feel free,” Derek says, curling his lips. “It’s not like _I’ll_ be the one getting the charges.” He lets him go and roughly brushes Stiles’ shoulder off. “Now stop before I decide to break your bones.”

The attacks predictably don’t stop.

After a particularly brutal series of pranks, Derek snaps at Scott in the middle of English. “Why are you doing this?”

Scott squints at him. “…because we need to finish our activity before the end of class?”

“No,” Derek huffs, “Why do you talk to me? Why do you walk with me in the hallways? Why are you still doing this when it’s clear Stiles doesn’t like it?”

Scott’s face turns serious and he’s quiet for a while.

“Because I know this is hard for you, ” he says finally. “You’re not in your own body, you’re forced to grin through this experience – figuratively speaking, of course – and you have to deal with people who don’t necessarily like you.” Scott shrugs. “I don’t see why I have to make it harder for you. You don’t deserve it.”

Derek’s chest feels tight. He licks his lips and says, “I—” Stops.

He doesn’t actually know what to say.

“Well, sort of,” Scott amends. “You were kinda a dick to Stiles last time. That was a low blow, bringing up the night I got bitten. I keep telling him it’s not his fault – it’s Peter’s – but he doesn’t always listen.”

Scott looks straight at him and Derek feels unnerved. He wants to look away, but can’t.

“You know that’s the only reason Stiles is doing all these pranks. Well, not the _only_ reason, but a major one. You should really apologise to him.”

“But he’s—” Derek tries to say.

Scott cuts him off. “No, both of you are pretty horrible to each other. One person insults and the other retaliates and it’s a self perpetuating cycle. So one of you needs to break it. Stiles’ won’t do it, so…” He makes a gesture towards Derek.

“What makes you think I’ll do it?” Derek says.

Scott seems to think on it before saying, “Because I think you don’t always want to fight. You just do because you think you need to, but you don’t.”

There’s silence and it’s stifling for Derek, but Scott seems perfectly comfortable.

Eventually, Derek says, “Fine,” through gritted teeth.

Scott grins widely at him, dimples showing. There’s a light in his eyes and he—

Derek’s breath hitches.

Scott is definitely worse.

*

Allison is watching reading one of her textbooks on the couch one morning when front door opens. Cora’s in her own room studying for a test she has tomorrow, and the others usually knock on the door first.

She looks up and freezes.

It’s Peter.

“What are you doing here?” It comes out before she can stop it and she’s unsettled when he hones in on her. She’s standing up now. The last time she saw him, he had his claws in Jackson’s gut and before that, he was a massive beast that turned into a charred corpse with its throat torn out.

And what he did to Lydia—

Cora comes out of her room and Allison sees her narrow her eyes.

“Peter,” she says, her tone blank. “Why are you here?”

Peter clutches his chest in mock-pain. “Where’s the love?” he says, and his voice grates on Allison’s nerves. “I missed my favourite nephew and niece. I came by to see how you both are.”

Cora rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen us,” she says. “Now get out.”

“How did you get in anyway? That door was locked,” Allison says, but regrets it when he looks at her curiously.

He ignores the question and examines her from head to toe. She feels a little sick.

“Biology?” Peter raises an eyebrow at the textbook in her hands.

“I like animals,” she replies flatly.

He makes a placid noise. “Speaking of animals, I hear they’re getting restless again. Increased aggression, was it?” He smiles and Allison wants to stick a knife right into his face.

“Do you have a point or are you going to keep asking us stupid questions that we know you already have the answers to.” Allison lifts her shoulders up minutely. “Because you heard what Cora said. Don’t make me repeat it.”

“Ah, today’s youth and their disrespect for their elders,” he says long-sufferingly and Allison sees Cora bristle further, looking two seconds away from wolfing out. Peter slowly starts walking backwards. “I mean it though,” he adds as an afterthought, “I have missed both of you. After all, family’s important.”

Cora snarls just as he shuts the door behind him.

*

Allison’s in the café again with her laptop when Lydia comes in and tells her, “I want Peter gone.”

She sits in front of Allison before she can react.

“Be it from sight or existence, I don’t care.” She smiles. “Well, I do prefer the latter. But as long as he never comes back, I’ll be happy.”

Allison agrees and Lydia’s smile becomes wider, more genuine.

There was never any doubt about it.

*

Scott invites him to see a movie.

It’s been a week since everything happened and they still haven’t caught the person responsible, nor have they figured out what’s happening in the preserve. And they can’t do anything but _wait._ Cora makes him run with her in the mornings, saying the endorphins will help with the stress, but Allison’s body is human and he isn’t used to getting tired so quickly. By the end of the run, Derek’s in a worse mood and Cora’s too annoyed by him to bother anymore. 

It’s like Scott can sense his frustration and is trying to distract him the only way he knows how. Derek doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t really watch movies; that the TV is for Cora and the bookshelves are his.

Stiles was not in their initial plans, but he basically forces his way into their movie outing. Stiles met Derek’s apology earlier in the week with a scoff and a prompt departure. He still looks suspicious of him, but Derek can’t be bothered with it because the pranks have _finally_ stopped. He has a feeling that the only reason Stiles came along was because he doesn’t want Derek alone with Scott – which annoys Derek to a surprising extent.

Derek personally finds the movie to be dull and full of immature, slapstick comedy, but Scott thinks it’s hilarious. A quarter into the movie, Derek is paying more attention to the sound of Scott’s laughter than the movie itself. When Scott laughs, he tries to stifle it at first before he reaches a point where he’s laughing so hard, he no longer makes a sound.

Derek finds it ridiculously captivating.

When Scott asks him how he found the movie, he says it was a better experience than he was expecting on getting.

They’re walking to a pizza place for dinner when Scott stops them, saying he needs to tie his shoelaces.

He’s bent over and Derek—

Derek can’t help but eye the line of this spine, the rise of his shirt to reveal a sliver of skin and his pants clutching precariously at his—

Derek averts his eyes, feeling a bit hot.

He catches Stiles’ eye. Stiles has a horrified look on his face and he mouths, “ _Really?_ ”

Derek rolls his eyes and looks out at the road, mentally repeating that he was _not_ embarrassed.

That’s when he sees them.

Hunters.

They tend to have a certain way of walking, mannerisms that make it obvious that they’re looking for something. It’s confirmed when one of them – the man – surreptitiously pats his waist, no doubt a gun there. Rookie.

He turns away before they see him, but not before he gets a proper look of their faces. He can’t use his sense of smell anymore, but he still has eyes.

“Derek?”

Scott’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

He sees that they’re already several steps ahead of him.

Derek clears his throat and says, “I’m coming.”

*

“According to Derek, he says he’s too weak after his… return,” Lydia says, lips curled.

They usually do this at Lydia’s house, but her mother is commandeering it for some sort of business party and businesspeople make Lydia get headaches. So they’re in Allison’s café instead. It isn’t ideal, but they make do.

“But I think that’s bullshit,” Lydia continues. “He’ll say anything to get people off his trail and he’s not exactly the type of person you should underestimate.” There’s a steely resolve in her eyes.

They are so absorbed in their conversation that they don’t notice Stiles walk in, his eyes bulging when he sees them. Their heads are close together, brows furrowed as they discuss the research Lydia has done in front of them.

Confused patrons glance at him as he walks right back out of the door, muttering, “Nope, not happening. Get it out of your head, Stilinski.”

*

Derek recognises a face through the window of a restaurant.

It’s one of the hunters.

He’d been trying to find them without asking for his pack’s help, but finding two people in a town – even one as relatively small as Beacon Hills – was a harder task than he’d expected.

And he just happens to stumble on one by chance.

Without a second thought, he enters the restaurant and drops into the empty seat in front of her.

The table is devoid of food and the woman looks surprised, and then disgruntled. She opens her mouth, but Derek interrupts her, saying, “You’re not from around here.”

“That’s not of your business,” she responds coldly. “Who are you and what do you want?” She has a long, thin scar running from behind her ear to the middle of her collarbone. Its paleness is stark against her dark skin.

Derek pauses for a few moments before saying, “My name is Allison Argent.” Her mouth is no longer pursed and a look of recognition passes. “And I want to know what you’re doing in my town,” he says. “Especially when there’s some kind of curse on the preserve.”

She doesn’t rise to his bait. Hell, she hardly seems surprised. If anything, it looks like Derek just confirmed something for her. “I thought you weren’t involved in this life,” she finally says.

“Obviously, I am,” he replies. “Now tell me.”

She gives him a long, unreadable look before saying, “Ritual.”

“What?”

“It’s a ritual,” she repeats, “Not a curse. A curse is more localised, specific victims. This has a wide spread, fixed to a location. Hence, not a curse and probably an effect of a ritual. From the looks of it, an ongoing one.”

Derek wants to say that he doesn’t really care about diction. A curse is a ritual is a thing that’s screwing with the preserve and is probably being executed by the same person who did this to Derek and Allison. But this is a hunter and he can’t afford to let his mouth run without thinking.

“You still haven’t told me exactly why you’re here,” he points out.

She gazes at him coolly, looking like she was assessing whether he was worthy of the information.

“We’re looking for an emissary,” she says after a long pause, a little reluctantly. “She’s affiliated with a pack that has a rather unsavory reputation in Texas.”

“She’s a long way from home,” Derek comments blandly. He struggles not to outwardly display his reaction to the first clue they’ve had in over a week.

“Exactly. We’ve been chasing her for a couple months, and we know the pack relies heavily on her… _talents_. She’s proven herself undoubtedly loyal to them, so we want to know what she’s doing in the lovely town of Beacon Hills.” She downs the last of her coffee. “She’s a sneaky one. We lost her trail two weeks ago and the only reason we’re here is because one of our contacts suggested she might be hiding in California. It’s pure luck that we decided to give your father a visit for a trace of anything instead of combing through the state.”

“What has the Texan pack done to warrant your hunt?” he asks, because it’s an important question. He wants to hear their justifications, what makes this so serious that they’ve travelled across the country on an ambiguous hint. 

Her face darkens.

“What haven’t they done? Murder, extortion, stealing, kidnapping… the list goes on. They’re in the middle of a territory dispute and they’re losing. They’ve been using increasingly violent tactics over the past year to turn the tide, but it’s not working and it’s costing lives. With every person we stop, they turn another. Many die in the process. Even if we don’t do anything, they keep turning people to strengthen their pack.”

Derek stares at her in horror. She makes it sound like they were biting people by the hundreds. He remembers his mother telling him about how not all packs were like them, how some were more brutal than others. Packs that reinforced the need for hunters. “ _The bite is a gift,_ ” she had said, “ _but only if they are fully informed and willing._ ”

“Thank you for the information. It’s been… helpful,” Derek says. He gets up and nods at her, making a move to leave. His hand is already poised over his pocket, ready to text Scott.

“I hope you solve whatever conflicts you’re having at the moment,” she says. Derek stops. “I’m surprised your father hasn’t told you any of this already if you’re already involved in our world. But if you’re anything like I was when I was younger…” She smiles and passes him a business card. 

_Valeria Baldassar, Project Manager._

“Good luck, Allison Argent.”

*

The next time Allison sees Peter, she asks him (demands to know) where he’s staying.

“Isn’t that a little… forward?” Allison had asked, to which Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Please. Have you seen Derek? It would be more suspicious if he was trying to be subtle.”

Peter smirks at her. “Why Derek, I didn’t think you cared so much for my wellbeing.”

“I’ve decided to take an interest in my relatives. After all,” she says, smiling, “family is important.”

Allison starts following him everywhere he goes.

He finds it amusing at first, but then he realises she’s actually serious about it. It’s not so amusing then.

She even accompanies him to the grocery store, citing his health as a point of concern for her.

The only time he leaves her sight is when she’s sleeping. 

(She still doesn’t know where _he_ sleeps.)

In addition, Allison insists on having Peter spar with her. “I need to make sure that my family members are strong,” she had said, ignoring Peter’s bemused look.

Perhaps she has too much fun with it because she’s dislocated three of his joints and broken one bone already.

Allison justifies it as a healthy outlet for her inner conflict.

Cora grins when Peter returns to the apartment battered.

*

Derek wants tell the others (to tell Scott) what he learned, but Chris decides this is the night he wants to bond with his daughter.

He’s stuck eating dinner and watching a DVD with him and Derek feels like crawling out of his skin. If Chris notices Derek’s fidgeting and silence, he keeps quiet.

By the end of it all, it’s too late for him too leave. Chris kisses his daughter’s forehead in goodnight and Derek resists the urge to flinch. He retreats to Allison’s room and curses the fact that the Argents live in a penthouse. He can’t sneak out without Chris hearing the door and there’s no window he can jump out of that will keep his brain matter in his skull.

Derek debates calling Scott, but worries about how well sound travels in this place. He doesn’t need Chris to hear this, though it’s clear he already knows there’s an emissary in town. But Derek’s not here to play mediator between Argent father and daughter.

He sends Scott a text.

_Need to talk to you before school. It’s important._

*

Scott meets him at the lacrosse field, Stiles in tow. They both look grim.

“A body was found at the edge of the preserve,” Stiles says.

“Clawed,” Scott continues, “Looked like it was by a werewolf.” Scott sighs and rubs his eyes. “We might be dealing with a rogue.” He sounds tired, like he had gotten no sleep last night. Judging by how pale and droopy they both looked, that might actually be close to the truth.

He tells them about his meeting with the hunter yesterday and Scott groans. “Why,” he asks, “would you approach a hunter by yourself? I swear, it’s like you’re actively seeking out trouble.”

“I got us a lead, didn’t I?” He crosses his arm over his chest, annoyed. “What was I supposed to do, let the opportunity pass?”

Scott sighs. “No, you’re right. Thanks,” he says, making an effort to smile. “I just wish you didn’t have to do that to get it.”

They inform Deaton and Stiles’ dad before reluctantly going to class. 

Derek pays no attention in class.

At lunchtime, the Sheriff calls back and Stiles’ face gets increasingly troubled. “Good news: there is no rogue werewolf on the loose. Deaton didn’t find any hairs on the body,” Stiles tells them. “Bad news: the emissary’s doing the killing and apparently she can fake werewolf marks surprisingly well.”

Not a second later, Scott’s phone beeps. “It’s from Cora,” he says and his eyes go wide. “She’s with Allison and Peter’s taking them out somewhere.”

“That… doesn’t sound too good,” Stiles says. Derek agrees because this is _Peter_ and Peter is _dangerous_. He would’ve killed him months ago, but Peter knows too much and Derek too little. He didn’t think any of it was important to learn when he was younger, or maybe he thought he had time. He’s clearly paying for that now.

“Where are they going?” Derek demands. Cora’s with Peter practically alone and who knows what might happen. The last time Peter was with one of his sisters—

“Scott,” he says more urgently. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know! Cora didn’t say—”

Derek makes a frustrated noise and feels like punching something. 

A tense twenty minutes passes with Derek nearly burning a hole in the ground with his pacing. The bell rang a while ago but _classes_ were the last thing on his mind. Even Stiles know not to disturb him. “We should be going after them!” he’d said, but it’s futile. They can’t do _anything_ until they know where they are.

The phone beeps and Derek’s head turns to it so fast he almost gets a whiplash. Scott’s mouth drops open.

“They’re going to the Hale house.”

*

“You wanted to know where I was staying, didn’t you?” Peter’s taunting her; she knows it. “Then come along. Cora,” he raises his voice slightly so she can hear him better from her room, “you should join us.”

“Not interested,” she sneers through the door.

“Cora,” Allison says carefully. “Come with us, please.”

Peter seems a little unhinged, his hair a bit mussed up and clothes slightly wrinkled. He’s forcing a grin, but she can see his eyes are cold and uncaring. He doesn’t seem to be his usual blithe self and that worries her. She doesn’t know how this Peter is going to act if she disregards him.

Cora must hear something in her voice because she comes out, stiffly standing by the door. Allison gives her an intense look. _Don’t make him mad,_ she tries to say with her eyes. Cora’s face twitches and she says, “Whatever. Fine.”

Allison sighs internally in relief.

(Her reasons aren’t completely selfless. She doesn’t want to face Peter alone.)

Peter grins genially. “Wonderful. _Derek_ ,” he says, his tone heavy with something she can’t identify, “you’re driving. You’ll probably know where we’re going anyway.”

Allison hasn’t the slightest clue.

When Peter’s back is turned, makes a telephone gesture at Cora and mouths, “ _Scott._ ” Cora nods resolutely and Allison’s glad she has a smartphone. At least sound of texting won’t be as obvious.

Peter tells Allison when to turn and they start moving further away from the town. Eventually, they turn into a dirt path that Allison barely sees until Peter points it out. He seems to be scrutinising her, but stays quiet. Allison’s heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest.

She realises why the surroundings look so familiar. She’s been here before.

_The Hale house._

It looms ahead of her and it’s looking even more dilapidated than she remembers, like the woods are consuming it. There’s more green than black and the structure seems to be crumbling under the weight of the vegetation. 

“You sleep here?” Allison blurts out, incredulous as she stops the car.

Peter shoots her a sardonic smile. “Don’t look so shocked, Derek. You were in my place a few months ago.” He gets out of the car and Allison hesitantly follows. There’s a reverent look on his face as he gazes at the ruins. “It reminds me of my family. Our family,” he says. “They’re memories I’d rather not lose.”

Allison’s not sure if he’s talking about the fire or the time before it. She catches a glimpse of the fierce look in his eyes and thinks maybe it’s a little of both.

He’s moving towards the house and Allison makes a move to follow, only to turn around when she remembers Cora.

Cora looks… wrecked. Allison thinks this is the first time she’s been back to the house since the fire and she thinks her eyes look a little glassy.

“Cora?”

The girl blinks rapidly and focuses on her. “What?” she tries to snap but it comes out garbled.

“Let’s go,” she says gently. She doesn’t want to subject Cora to more pain and memories, but Peter has already gone inside and she doesn’t want to leave him alone for one second.

She remembers Scott and checks her phone. There are a dozen messages from him but she scrolls past them, quickly sending him their location and starts walking towards the house.

It towers over her ominously, but she’s strangely comforted by Cora’s presence behind her. 

All she sees is Peter’s still back, his head tilted up looking beyond the stairs. 

“Why are we here, Peter?” she asks.

“Weren’t you the one so ever so interested in family, Derek?” He sounds amused. “I’m just giving you want you want. There’s—”

He cuts himself off, head tilting slightly.

Allison hears a pop and something shatters one of the remaining intact windows in the living room. 

Peter’s contorted face is the last thing she sees before her vision whites out, a sharp piercing noise ringing in her ears.

*

The ringing is replaced with gunshots and roars.

She’s still disorientated when she feels something stab through her shoulder. She cries out in pain and feels her teeth elongating, nails sharpening. This is the time and she _can’t control it._

Her vision is still hazy and there’s just too much noise— She can’t focus—

She screams.

There’s blood on her hands and it’s coming from her stomach and the pain is _so much worse please please please stop—_

She sees Peter’s blurry figure pinning someone down, claws raised in the air before he disappears.

There’s only darkness after that.

*

They’d gotten there just in time to stop the hunters.

And to stop Peter.

He was seconds away from killing one of the hunters when Scott pushes him away. 

Derek’s first priority is Cora, but she shakes her head when she sees him approach. Her wounds were already healing. No wolfsbane.

The same couldn’t be said for Allison (and Derek’s body).

Lydia crudely burns the wolfsbane in the bullets and applies it to her wound. His screams sound different when it wasn’t coming from his mouth.

Even Peter is healed, however reluctantly. Stiles makes sure to take his time with the burning and rubs the ashes into the wound on his thigh harder than necessary, but Peter just grins through the pain.

Allison is still unconscious when Scott leaves with her, supporting Derek’s body easily. Scott wants Deaton to check her over and Derek can’t fault him. He’d rather his body be returned to him in one piece.

*

“She was hard to find before, much less identify,” Deaton says. “But she’s gotten more careless recently, either because we’re getting closer to her or because the ritual is almost done.”

Allison woke up an hour ago to bright lights and cold hands on her. She feels much better but can’t help flinching slightly whenever she remembers.

So she tries not to remember.

“There’s a lot of power in Beacon Hills, more than you would expect,” Deaton explains. “And most of it is in the ground itself, in the trees, in the rivers. But see, that power is untapped – inaccessible until someone creates a tap and turns it. That’s what this ritual is doing. It’s using dark energy to force the preserve into bloom in preparation for the harvesting of power. The forest knows something’s wrong and it tries to warn creatures away from it. I’m not sure why the effect is particularly potent on humans and werewolves, but coupled with the traces of dark energy, the preserve is a mentally inhospitable place.”

Deaton frown deepens. “I hadn’t heard of it before because it’s an extremely obscure and risky way to do it. I know some druids draw their power from nature, but this…”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know how to fix it. You’ll need to ask her because she’s the only one who knows. All I can do is help you find her.”

“That’s all we need,” Scott says.

*

In the end, it’s not too hard.

It’s just the four of them – Scott, Stiles, Allison and Derek. Scott didn’t think it was necessary to have the others present, but he has his phone close to him just in case.

After weeks of eluding them, it’s almost anticlimactic to find her sitting under a tree, perfectly at peace as they approach her.

She’s not what Derek was expecting.

She looks barely eighteen. Her cheeks are sunken in and Derek thinks her arms and legs look just like bones with how pale they are. Her blonde hair is greasy and flat, and when she opens her eyes, they’re a dull blue staring blankly at them.

She smiles tiredly. “Took you long enough,” she says, her voice scratchy.

She doesn’t move as they tie her up in rope.

“What’s your name?” Scott asks and she laughs.

“You don’t care,” she says. “I won’t tell you anyway. Dehumanise things a little for you.” 

“Then what are you doing here? Why are you doing this?” he demands.

“Aww, poor babies,” she coos. “Don’t you know anything? Don’t you know what you have here, right in front of you? I’m just here to take what you’re squandering.”

“Yeah… this whole talking in mysterious ambiguity thing you’re doing here isn’t working,” Stiles says. “Just tell us the truth, lady.”

Her face sours. “My pack’s not doing too good. Encroaching packs, hunters... They were killing our betas faster than we could successfully add to our pack,” she says candidly. “And believe me, we tried so hard. Not everyone made it and the lull in numbers was a tragedy for us.” 

Derek’s disgusted.

“We needed help – a little boost, if you will – and Beacon Hills just happened to have a convenient pick-me-up.” She smirks. “Julia – or should I say Jennifer? – didn’t just come here for your pretty little face.”

“Not that I mind,” Stiles says, “but why are you _actually_ telling us shit?”

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” she states simply.

Scott looks confused. “What does that mean?”

And Derek has stopped caring. He grinds his teeth and says, “Fix this. _All_ of it.”

She smiles cheekily and his fingers curl. “I can’t do that,” she drawls. He forgets that he doesn’t have claws, but nails could so a similar amount of damage if enough force is applied. 

“What do you mean you can’t fix this? _You’re_ the one who did it!”

She tsks at them. “Number one, it’s too late. Number two, haven’t you ever seen a movie before? The solution was always right in front of you.” Derek’s close to actually punching her in the face.

“We have to kiss each other,” Allison interjects, sounding like she had just come to the realisation in that moment.

“Bingo,” the girl sings.

“What?” Derek says.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Stiles looks torn between laughing and crying.

“What do you means it’s too late?” Scott demands, but Allison grabs Derek’s shirt and shoves her mouth on his.

Or rather, his on hers.

Derek’s frozen stiff and hears them all go silent.

It doesn’t matter anyway because he’s out a few seconds later.

*

Allison wakes up to the sound of hysterical laughter and she flexes her fingers.

Her eyes snap open.

She flexes _her_ fingers and she grins.

The laughter is dying down, but the girl is still hiccupping. “Oh, oh, that was too good. I should’ve done that months ago.”

“Stop fronting,” Scott almost yells. “What do you mean it’s too late? How do we stop the ritual?”

The girl grins viciously. “I’m not going to tell,” she says. “Maybe you just have to kill me.”

There’s a loud gunshot and before anyone can react, there’s a hole in her head. She falls to the side, her mouth still pulled in a grin.

“If you insist,” Peter says.

*

The preserve goes back to normal after that. Derek checks.

Scott is yelling at Peter, looking like he’s ready to tear him into pieces. Peter’s smirking smugly, not even paying attention to the boy in front of him as he admires his work.

Derek just stands there.

They still need to deal with the hunters and Peter and what the girl said and the world.

But in that moment, he’s back in his body; he can _feel_ his pack again and he can see righteous anger in brown, brown eyes against unwavering darkness.

He’s content.

*

Allison says, “Lydia, I’m sorry we didn’t get to—”

“No,” she interrupts. “We had other priorities, like getting you back and stopping the emissary.”

Lydia fiddles with her skirt. “Besides, he’ll still be recovering from that wolfsbane. I hear resurrected bodies don’t cope well to stress.”

They smile at each other.

*

“I just don’t understand,” Scott says in frustration. “And Peter—” he cuts himself off with a little angry noise.

Derek finds it strangely endearing. He says, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

Without thinking, Derek reaches out and grasps Scott’s hand.

Scott looks startled and Derek’s already pulling away, except— Except his hand is being squeezed tighter.

Scott smiles at him, eyes soft and Derek feels light.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a huge mess. I might explore this 'verse a little more later on, because you can probably tell that this fic hints at a lot of things. I had way too many things squeezed in there.


End file.
